


whereon he stands

by Laylah



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Blow Jobs, Devotion, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Foot Jobs, Kink Discovery, M/M, Post-Canon, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: When the door is safely closed and latched behind them, Larsa lets the somber mask drop enough to say lightly, "Mostdesirous of privacy? I would have called that but a means to an end.""Forgive me if I misspoke, my lord," Noah answers as he removes his helm. "But I cannot imagine any more direct statement of the truth would have been an improvement.""Very likely not," Larsa agrees with a smile. He sits down on the edge of the bed and tugs off his gloves as he watches Noah set aside helmet and gauntlets. "My lord is most desirous of his guardian's mouth, madam," he says, a remarkably good impression of Noah's own cadence, "and would not care for any frivolous distractions."
Relationships: Gabranth | Noah fon Ronsenburg/Larsa Ferrinas Solidor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28
Collections: Flash Fuck: Round One (2019)





	whereon he stands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Welsper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/gifts).



They are far enough from Archades that the innkeeper doesn't recognize them, but that doesn't prevent her being intimidated; between 'Lamont's' fine clothes and the imposing presence of a Judge Magister's plate, she can clearly tell that they represent power even if she knows not the specifics. She promises them the best room in the house, swears up and down that she will provide any amenity within her power.

At the door to the room, Noah turns to her and says, "My lord is most desirous of privacy, madam. A lack of interruption is worth more than any of the luxuries of the capital."

"Of course, your honor," the innkeeper says with a nervous bow. "I'll see to it you're not disturbed."

"Thank you," Larsa says, "for your excellent hospitality." As always, his manner is impeccable, exactly what his audience needs, and the innkeeper seems visibly reassured as she retreats. 

When the door is safely closed and latched behind them, Larsa lets the somber mask drop enough to say lightly, " _Most_ desirous of privacy? I would have called that but a means to an end."

"Forgive me if I misspoke, my lord," Noah answers as he removes his helm. "But I cannot imagine any more direct statement of the truth would have been an improvement."

"Very likely not," Larsa agrees with a smile. He sits down on the edge of the bed and tugs off his gloves as he watches Noah set aside helmet and gauntlets. " _My lord is most desirous of his guardian's mouth, madam_ ," he says, a remarkably good impression of Noah's own cadence, "and would not care for any frivolous distractions."

Noah's skin goes hot all over and his cock throbs. No man has ever been able to provoke such a sharp reaction from him with so little effort. "I am at your disposal, my lord."

Larsa pulls off his tunic and tosses it aside; his shirt falls in a tantalizing drape around his slender form, and he leans back on his hands. "Help me with my boots, then?"

"Gladly." Noah kneels at his lord's feet and begins to unhook the laces that keep Larsa's thigh-high boots tight. He can feel the weight of Larsa's gaze as he slides each boot off and sets them carefully aside. Larsa's stockinged feet rest on his cuisses, light enough that he can barely feel the pressure through the steel. He wraps his hands around slender ankles, tracing fine bones with his thumbs and waiting for his lord's next command.

"Set these aside as well, if you would." Larsa pushes his smallclothes down over his thighs, and Noah pulls them the rest of the way, not yet letting himself look up to see the temptation he knows must be before him now. As much as he craves Larsa he has quickly learned that he craves Larsa's control perhaps even more.

Larsa's feet slide up the plates of his cuisses and then one goes further, to the leather of his trousers above the edge of the plate. His toes trace a line over the stiff shape of Noah's cock and Noah moans helplessly. He looks up and Larsa looks utterly debauched and beautiful, mostly still covered with only the most tantalizing flesh bare—between the tops of his stockings and the hem of his rucked-up shirt, slim hips and pale thighs and his cock hardening under Noah's gaze.

"You like what you see, don't you?" Larsa murmurs. 

Noah looks up further, to meet his gaze; Larsa is blushing, but confident, sharing this moment of vulnerability with him and no-one else. "You know I do, my lord. Larsa."

Larsa smiles at the use of his name. "Then show me how much," he says. Noah starts to reach for him and he stretches out a hand to stop it. "Use your mouth."

"Yes," Noah breathes. He leans down to kiss the insides of Larsa's thighs, first over the fabric of his stockings and then higher, where silk gives way to even smoother skin, where Noah's stubble is enough to turn pale flesh pink as he moves. Larsa's breath hitches and his thighs flex but he doesn't tell Noah to hurry, doesn't take him by the hair and forcefully _move_ him, as he would be welcome to do.

Instead the ball of his foot presses against Noah's erection, a slow pressure that makes Noah groan against his skin and rock into the touch. "I hadn't realized you would take to that so well," he says softly, and Noah can only shiver, nodding; _he_ hadn't realized it either, isn't sure he would have wanted it from anyone else, but he belongs to Larsa and it feels right. "Open your trousers for me," Larsa says. "I would have you bare." He sounds as though he isn't certain whether it's a suggestion or an order, as though he's still worried that there are things he hasn't the right to demand, but there is nothing that Noah would deny him. Noah kisses the crease of Larsa's hip—close enough that his breath makes Larsa's cock pulse—and unlaces, pulling his trousers and smallclothes down just far enough to expose his cock.

The first glide of Larsa's stockinged foot up the shaft of his naked cock makes Noah shudder. " _Please_ ," he groans.

"Hands behind your back," Larsa answers, breathy, captivated. 

Noah complies immediately, crossing his wrists at the small of his back. He looks up, and he would beg, tell Larsa _please, take me, have me however you will_ —but it seems Larsa has been emboldened by his eager cooperation, for now at last he takes a grip on Noah's hair at the front where it's just long enough to pull and drags him back down. 

He is more than twice Larsa's size but Noah goes gladly, opening his mouth to welcome Larsa's cock on his tongue. He's rewarded both by Larsa's soft, sweet moan and by the flex of Larsa's toes against his shaft. He feels so completely owned in this moment, and with anyone else he would hate that feeling but with Larsa it's so _good_. He works Larsa's cock with his lips and tongue, savorin the way it fills his mouth.

Larsa's other foot joins the first, both of them stroking and kneading Noah's cock as he moans and squirms for it. The silk of Larsa's stockings is exquisitely smooth, a luxury, yet at the same time the caress is so near to being trod upon, in a way that feels good—Noah gives up on trying to untangle the feelings and their reasons and just surrenders himself to it, hitching his hips up to urge Larsa on.

He can taste salt on his tongue, can hear Larsa's breathing growing ragged above him, even as his own limbs grow tense and his rhythm falters with need. He wants more than simply this touch; he wants to be undone by only this touch. Larsa makes the choice for him, sweetly and relentlessly caressing him until he tips over the edge into climax. He groans in relief around the shaft ot Larsa's cock, and his spend soaks Larsa's stockings.

"Oh," Larsa breathes, as if in wonder, " _oh_." His grip tightens in Noah's hair and he pushes deeper, thrusting into Noah's mouth with clumsy urgency. Noah keeps his hands behind him as he's been ordered and moans to encourage his lord to take what he wants. From the trembling of Larsa's thighs it seems he must be close.

Larsa spills into his mouth with a soft cry, and Noah drinks him down hungrily, basking in the reflected pleasure of his lord's satisfaction. Larsa's grip loosens and he runs his fingers through Noah's hair slowly, grounding them both in that gentle touch.

"Thank you," he says. "I'd been craving that."

Noah sits back on his heels and smiles up at his lord. "I'm glad I could provide," he says. He looks down at his lap, where Larsa's heels still rest against his thighs. "And thank you. That was..." He isn't sure he has the words for it, not yet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Larsa says. His toes flex. "Though I have wound up rather a mess."

Heat flares in Noah's belly despite the fact that they've only just finished. He licks his lips and finds himself saying, "If it would please my lord, I would do something about that."

Larsa's eyes go wide. "It would," he says warmly. "I think it would please your lord indeed."


End file.
